Spook Me
by theoofoof
Summary: A collection of 26 unrelated oneshots (one for each letter of the alphabet) each entitled "[blank] Me". Inspired by a post on tumblr. Hopefully that makes sense, if not it will when you read!
1. Amuse Me

**Amuse me:** A funny drabble about one character trying to cheer another up.

* * *

The last month had been a tough one for MI-5. After a terrorist attack in Washington, the threat level in the UK had been raised, meaning every nutcase and lunatic who took to the internet to vent their frustrations had to be checked out and then checked out again. No one was taking any chances.

Every member of Section D had worked relentlessly over the past 6 days, putting in 12 hour days, but none more so than Ruth. Every day when Harry had arrived at work around 7, she had been there and it looked like she'd been there a while and she was always the last one to leave, even after Harry. Harry had taken to checking the CCTV on a daily basis to ensure she wasn't actually working through the night of sleeping on the Grid.

The hours had taken their toll though; Ruth was tired and stressed; no-one had dared approach her and ask for anything this week for fear of having their head bitten off. Adam had brought it to Harry's attention on Wednesday, but he'd already noticed. He tried his best to alleviate her work load but it was tough; they were all under a lot of pressure.

Harry was glad then that on his return from a JIC meeting on Friday, he had some good news.

"The threat level is being reduced back to substantial," he announced to the team, as they gathered around Adam's station. "The JIC is satisfied that the attack was the brainchild of a lone terrorist; it had no backing or support from Al-Queda or any other known group. You can all go home."

"I don't know about anyone else," piped up Zaf, " but I need a drink."

There were a few murmurings of agreement so Harry plucked several £20 notes from his wallet and handed them to Adam. "First round is on me. Thank you for all you hard work over the last couple of weeks."

"You not joining us?" he asked.

"Maybe later," Harry said, his eyes drifting to Ruth who was sat typing away furiously at her computer, before retreating to his office.

He waited for everyone to leave, something that didn't take very long, before approaching Ruth. She was so engrossed in her work that she didn't even notice him approach. He watched her work for a few moments, chewing on her bottom lip as she tried to work something out; a sight that he didn't think he could ever tire of.

Eventually Ruth noticed his reflection in her monitor and turned sharply, a blush rising in her cheeks.

"Sorry Harry, did you want something."

"Did you not hear my announcement?" She shook her head, her blush deepening. She'd been aware of something happening on the Grid, but had been deep in an analysis of a suspected Iranian terrorist."

"The JIC have reduced the threat level."

"That's… good," she smiled, clearly relieved.

"It certainly is; it should ease the pressure on us for a few days at least. I've sent everyone home."

"Right, well I'll just finish up here and be on my way."

Harry thought she should go straight away and join the other; she needed to relax, but he knew better than to try and push her, especially now; he wasn't sure where he stood with her now, so he merely nodded his head in agreement. "Pop in and see me before you leave."

Fifteen minutes later, the door to his office opened and Ruth entered, her hag and coat in hand. Harry stood and, motioning for her to take a seat, poured two large whiskeys. He slid the glass across the desk to her. She raised an eyebrow. "Join me for a drink?" he said

"Still as presumptuous as ever, I see," she observed, lifting the glass to her lips.

"Well, why change a habit that has served me well for many years." This time it was a querying look that that Ruth sent his way. "The last time I was presumptuous, it led to one of the nicest evenings I'd had in a good few years."

Ruth didn't want to talk about their date; she knew she had hurt him by turning down his offer of a second date several months before. "Harry, I-" she began to protest.

He held up his hand to stop her. "Besides, you deserve this. You've put in more hours this week than anyone else on the team."

"I was just doing my job Harry."

"It was more than that and you know it; you must have worked fourteen hour shifts most days."

"It's not exactly a hardship; it's not like I've got anyone waiting for me at home…

"It can be quite lonely." Harry agreed. "It's one of the reasons I keep my dog. I'm sure she would be better served with an owner who is at home more."

"I'm the same; although Fidget's quite an independent character."

"Fidget?"

"My cat."

Harry could barely contain his amusement as he refilled her now empty glass. "Your cat is called Fidget?" he asked, smirking.

"And what's wrong with Fidget as a name?" she asked indignantly.

"Nothing, nothing at all." He was outright laughing now. "I'm just imaging you stood at your back door, shouting 'Fidget' at the top of your voice and wondering what your neighbours must think."

Despite Ruth's slight annoyance at his comment, Harry's laughter became infectious as she conceded that he did have a point, and before long, they were both laughing loudly.

Several minutes later, when their laughter had died down, Ruth regarded Harry with a smile. "Thank you," she whispered.

"For?"

"For cheering me up. I didn't realise how much I needed it."

Harry stood and walked around his desk? "Will you allow me to continue cheering you up over dinner?"

"I…" She wanted to say yes, she really did, but was unsure if they could move past her previous rejection?

Harry reached for her hand. "You don't have to be lonely anymore Ruth. Not if you don't want to be."

The look in his eyes and the tone of his voice was enough to convince her. "Dinner sounds lovely. But where would we go? I can't think anywhere would feed us at this time?"

"There's a rather nice fish and chip shop around the corner for my place, if it's not too presumptuous?"

Ruth smiled. "That sounds lovely; I haven't had fish and chips in ages."

When Ruth woke the next morning, wrapped in the warmth of Harry's embrace, she realised that Harry was right; she didn't have to be lonely anymore.


	2. Break Me

**Break Me: **An angsty fic

* * *

"I have cancer." She says it so quietly, he wonders if he's heard her correctly. When he sees her shoulder's slump, he knows he has.

"Cancer?" he repeats, almost unable to speak the words.

"I found a lump a few weeks ago," she explains. "I've been having tests."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want to worry you."

"What has the doctor said? Has he given any prognosis?"

"They think they've caught it early but there's no guarantees. They want me to start treatment immediately."

He sees the fear and uncertainty in her eyes. He opens his arms to her and she falls into his embrace. Heavy sobs course through her body and his heart breaks to see her in such distress. He wants to cry with her, but he knows she needs him to be strong for her, so he steels himself against his own feelings. Not knowing what else to do, he manoeuvres them to the sofa and pulls her down with him so sit on his lap, holding her tightly and letting her cry. She clings to him; he is her rock and lifeline.

When she stops crying, he dries her eyes but doesn't let her go. "You know I'm here for you, for whatever you need," he tells her. "You won't be alone for a minute; not if you don't want to be."

"Thank you," she sniffs.

"I love you Ruth."

He's never told her before, but she's known. She knew it when he asked her to dinner, however much she denied it at the time. He had tried to tell her on that dockside before she left but she didn't let him; knowing it would have made parting so much harder if she heard the words. She's seen it in his eyes when they were reunited at Mani's behest, when she lost George and then Nico. She's been unable to return his love after that, she'd felt so guilty but his love for her hadn't wavered.

Now, faced with her own possible mortality all she feels is regret; for all the time that has been lost.

"I love you too," she admits, breaking down again. "I'm sorry! We've wasted so much time Harry. _I've_ wasted so much time!"

He rubs comforting circles on her back in an effort to calm her. "Sshh. It's okay Ruth. We'll fight this. Together."

Within the darkness that has been threatening to engulf her, there is a flicker of light at Harry's words. And as his lips touch hers, it begins to burn brighter.


	3. Call Me

**Call Me: **a fic about one character asking for another

* * *

The shot echoed through the comms system and everyone on the Grid was silent. Waiting. Wondering. Ruth's hands stilled, hovering over her keyboard

After a few seconds of silence, Malcolm spoke. "Alpha One? Alpha Two? Are you there? Status report please."

There was a bit of static and then Adam's voice rang out. "Alpha One is down. Get an ambulance over here now!"

As Jo dealt with the emergency services, Malcolm cast a glance over at Ruth. He knew that she and Harry had been in a relationship for almost six months and wondered how she was doing. She was as white as a sheet and hadn't uttered a word. He was about to ask if she was okay when Adam's voice came back over the comms.

"Malcolm? Is Ruth there? Harry's asking to speak to her."

He glanced over at her once more and saw her steeling herself for what was to follow; he wanted to give them some privacy. After a few clicks it was done and he sent her a private message. ' _I'__ve fiddled with the comms; it__'__s just you and him.' _ She flashed him a grateful smile and took a deep breath. "Harry?"

"Ruth." Harry's voice was raspy and it frightened her to hear him sounding so weak.

"An ambulance is on the way Harry," she assured him.

"Ruth, I want to say… in case I don't make it… I love you."

"Oh Harry! I love you too," she replied.

"If I get through this, I don't want us to hide anymore."

"Okay." She knew they wouldn't be able to keep it a secret much longer anyway. "Harry, promise me you'll fight. I'm not ready to lose you. I need you, now more than ever."

"What?"

"I didn't want it to be like this when I told you but… I'm pregnant. We're going to have a baby, so you have to live do you hear me? Your son or daughter will need their father."

* * *

_7 months later_

"He looks like Dad," Catherine told Ruth as she admired her baby brother.

Ruth nodded in agreement, tears gathering in the corner of her eyes as she remembered the day she had told Harry she was pregnant.

Catherine noticed Ruth's reaction and quickly apologised. "Sorry, I wasn't thinking."

"It's okay," she assured the younger woman. "It just made me think about how different things could have been, that's all." Eager not to dwell on what-ifs, Ruth gazed back down at her son. "You're right though, he does look like Harry. I think it's the lips."

"Definitely," agreed Catherine. "When he pouts, he's the spitting image."

"I do not pout," came Harry's voice as he approached. Both women had been so engrossed in the newest addition to the Pearce family that they had failed to notice Harry entering the ward.

Catherine just smiled at Ruth knowingly, before excusing herself to make a phonecall.

"Do I really pout?" Harry asked.

"Only when you're in a particularly bad mood," she told him, but her smile didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Are you okay ?

"It's nothing; I was just thinking about when you were shot… I don't know what I would have done if you'd died.!"

Harry perched on the bed next to her and put his arm around her. "But I didn't Ruth; I'm here. With you and our son. You've given me a second chance to have a family Ruth, and from the moment you told me you were pregnant, I vowed that I would fight; fight to live and be the best father I could be… which is why I've decided to retire."

"Retire?"

"It's time Ruth," he insisted.

Ruth nodded, and this time her smile did reach her eyes, as she reached up and cupped Harry's cheek, drawing his lips to hers, sealing their future as a family.


	4. Drink Me

**A/N: **Possibly a little OOC, but I can't bring myself to be sorry. ;)

**A story about two characters doing shots**

* * *

The first thing Ruth becomes aware of as she wakes is the pain. It's pulsating behind her eyes and is wrapped around her head like a vice. She hasn't felt this bad after a night out since her days at university. She is terribly hungover. If the throbbing pain in her head wasn't evidence enough, the taste of tequila in her mouth confirms it.

_Oh dear; this is bad. _

Slowly, she opens one eye. She's on her sofa; she must have been so drunk that she hadn't even been able to make it up the stairs to bed.

_Classy Ruth, very classy! _

Surveying what she can see of the living room, with the limited range of movement he head will allow, she sees an half empty bottle of tequila on the coffee table and two shot glasses.

_Two glasses? Did I bring someone home?_

Just contemplating what might have taken place, makes her head throb even more, so she decides to ignore it for now and allows herself to drift off to sleep; perhaps her dreams will shed some light on what exactly she had done last night.

* * *

Her dreams do indeed provide an insight into the events of Zaf's birthday party, but they are very fragmented.

They'd all gone to The George after work… The drinks had flown quite freely… Someone… possibly Jo… had suggested tequila… and ten minutes later a full bottle had appeared on the table, along with a shot glass for everyone.

"Does it have to be shots?" Ruth had said. "Can I not have a Tequila Sunrise or something?"

"Ruth, you do not ruin a fine tequila by mixing it with orange juice," Jo had replied, as she filled everyone's glasses. She'd looked to Harry for help, but he'd just thrown her a helpless look. Hell, even Malcolm had been being coerced.

When everyone had a drink, Jo had raised her glass. "To Zaf!"

"To Zaf," Ruth had echoed. She'd knocked back the tequila and come up sputtering, having forgotten how strong it could be. Harry had passed her a wedge of lime, which she had gratefully sucked on.

The next thing that comes to her is Zaf and Adam piling Jo into a taxi, after she'd almost passed out on the dance floor. Malcolm and Colin had also made their excuses, leaving Harry and Ruth alone and quite drunk.

"They've left the tequila," Ruth had pointed out.

"We could always finish it," Harry had suggested. "It would be a shame to waste it."

"Harry there's over half a bottle there. We'd be paralytic if we drank all that. We'd be lucky to make it home."

"We could always go; continue this at my place?"

Ruth hadn't even thought before answering. "Mine is closer."

In Ruth's living room they'd sat on her sofa, closer than they've ever been. Ruth must have been very drunk by this point because she remembers asking Harry if he'd ever done body shots!

Harry had looked at her as if she'd grown a second head. "Body shots?"

"Yeh." She'd tried to find the words to explain what they were but hadn't been able to. "Here, let me show you." Ruth had given him a piece of lime and told him to hold it between his teeth.

She'd started off somewhere tame, licking the salt from the back of his hand, downing her tequila and then sucking on the lime while it was still in Harry's mouth.

"That's an… interesting way to drink tequila," he'd commented before replicating her movements to take his own shot.

"Y'know," Ruth had heard herself saying, "the salt doesn't have to be licked from just the hand…"

* * *

The next thing Ruth is aware of is a phone beeping; it's her alarm. She lies there willing herself to move to switch it off but she can't quite summon up the energy to move. There is movement behind her and suddenly the noise stops.

"Thanks Harry."

_Harry? What the- _

Then she remembers her dream and everything comes back with startling clarity. The last thing she remembers is lying on top of Harry, snogging like a couple of teenagers, the tequila, salt and limes discarded. Then it's just blackness.

_Did we have sex?_

She looks down and checks her appearance. She is still wearing her top but her bra is undone. The zip on her jeans is down, but her underwear still intact.

"Relax." Ruth jumps at the sound of Harry's voice

She turns to face him, conscious that she is probably blushing like a school girl. "P-pardon?"

"We didn't do anything… well not that anyway."

Ruth sighs in relief before realising how that must appear to Harry.

"I mean… it's not that I don't want… I just… oh screw it! Sorry."

Harry chuckles. "It's okay. I understand. Well, at least I hope I do." Ruth raises an eyebrow. "I too am glad we didn't have sex last night, because the state we were in, we wouldn't remember a thing and I very much want to remember every single second of it."

As he leans down to kiss her to punctuate his point, she forgets about her embarrassment, her morning breath and her hangover and is suddenly very, very grateful for Jo for buying and then forgetting that bottle of tequila.


	5. Enamour Me

**Enamour Me: **A fluffy drabble about one character trying to woo another [be it out of the blue/Valentine's Day.]

* * *

Ruth sat up in bed, awakened by a loud knock at the door. She sighed pulled herself out of bed grabbing her dressing gown as she ran to answer the door.

"Ruth Evershed?" asked the delivery boy, holding a red box under one arm and a clipboard under the other.

"Yes, that's me," she mumbled still half asleep but focused on the box.

"I have a delivery for you. You'll need to sign for it." He handed her the clipboard and pen, and she signed as instructed before handing them back.

"Here you go. Have a nice day."

"Thanks," she replied, accepting the box he handed her. She closed the door and walked into the living room, sitting down on the couch, the box on her lap. Carefully, she pulled off the bow and lifted the lid. Inside, lay between several sheets of green tissue paper, was a single red rose and a small card. Leaving the rose, she read the card.

_When my love swears that she is made of truth,  
I do believe her though I know she lies,  
That she might think me some untutored youth,  
Unlearned in the world's false subtleties.  
Thus vainly thinking that she thinks me young,  
Although she knows my days are past the best,  
Simply I credit her false-speaking tongue:  
On both sides thus is simple truth suppressed:  
But wherefore says she not she is unjust?  
And wherefore say not I that I am old?  
O! love's best habit is in seeming trust,  
And age in love, loves not to have years told:  
Therefore I lie with her, and she with me,  
And in our faults by lies we flattered be._

Shakespeare's Sonnet 138, an MI-5 favourite. Well, that certainly narrowed down the options of who could have sent it, not that there was a very large list in the first place. She mentally ran through all the men she worked with. It wouldn't be Adam, he was happily married so that left Malcolm, Colin or Zaf.

Well, there was one other… Harry… but it wouldn't be him, no matter how much she secretly wished it was. He wouldn't look twice at someone as bookish as her.

She didn't recognise the handwriting on the card but then again, the florist had probably written it.

Trying to work out who had sent it, occupied her thoughts completely whilst she was showering and readying herself for the day. By the time she left for work, forty minutes later, the rose was in a small crystal vase that ha once belonged to her Grandmother, and Ruth had convinced herself that it was nothing more than a wind up from Zaf; a grand finale to the teasing he'd been subjecting her to all week.

* * *

When she arrived at work, the office was in darkness save for the lamp on her desk. It shone brightly, illuminating another offering; a large cup of coffee and a croissant. Ruth looked around, there was no one around; even Harry's office was empty.

She looked at the coffee, it was from an upmarket coffee shop that she loved but only ever visited as a treat. She removed the plastic lid from the cup and a heavenly scent filled her nostrils; Vanilla Spice Latte, her favourite.

She removed her coat and scarf and, for the first time since she began working for MI-5, she sat down without turning her computer on. She leaned back slightly in her chair and enjoyed a luxurious breakfast.

When Zaf, who Ruth still suspected of being behind the gifts, walked in chatting animatedly with Jo he looked at the half empty cup and half eaten pastry. "Nice breakfast Ruth? Could have bought some for the rest of us," he remarked. "I'm starving!"

"Should have been up earlier then," replied Jo. She turned to Ruth to explain. "Ignore him, he overslept and has been rushing around like a headless chicken ever since."

Startled by the realisation that Zaf couldn't possibly be behind the coffee and croissant, Ruth was back at square one. But she vehemently refused to give in to the flicker of hope that was forming in her stomach; the one that kept repeating one name over and over. Harry.

Almost as soon as the rest of the team had left the Grid, Harry appeared in the doorway of his office. "Ruth, can you come in here for a moment please?"

Ruth stood and obediently entered his office. "Harry? Wh-what's this?" she asked.

"It's for you, Ruth," he said, his eyes dancing lightly. "It's for both of us."

The main lights in the office were off and small white fairy lights and candles were lying across his desk. In the middle of the room lay a blanket, which was set out as a picnic. Two plates, flutes, sets of silverware, and napkins adorned the blanket.

Ruth looked from the blanket to Harry and back again for a moment before speaking. "All this to discuss the weekly threat assessment?" Ruth commented dubiously. When Harry didn't respond, she spoke again. "That is why I'm here isn't it; the security of the nation?"

"Can we discuss that over dinner?" Harry gestured to Ruth to sit down.

Relenting, she smoothed her skirt and sat on the blanket in front of the place setting. Harry having retrieving two take away containers from his desk, knelt down opposite her and piled steaming spaghetti and sauce onto the two plates. He seated himself opposite to Ruth at the floor-table. The warm tomato fragrance of the pasta filled the room, adding to the cosy atmosphere of the dimly-lit office.

Ruth watched as Harry, sitting cross-legged on the blanket, his tie loose and shirt sleeves rolled up, fiddled with the tape on the neck of the wine bottle. After a few moments of struggle, the tape caught and pulled away from the bottle. Ruth found herself smiling while she watched Harry's battle with the tape and bottle-cork. Finally, after freeing the cork from the bottleneck, Harry turned his attention back to Ruth, who held out her glass for him to fill. Harry could tell, subtle though the change was, that Ruth's demeanour was becoming more relaxed. She sat flat on the floor with her legs stretched out beside her on the blanket. One hand rested at her side while she stirred the steaming spaghetti with the other, waiting for it to cool.

A stray strand of hair fell across her forehead. How Harry longed to reach across to her and smooth the hair back from her face. Oh, to kiss her, he thought. He'd give anything to be able to take her into his arms and kiss her. He wanted to feel her arms around him; her head resting on his shoulder...

"Harry?" the sound of Ruth speaking his name transported Harry from his daydreams back to reality. "Harry? I think it's cooled enough to eat now," Ruth gestured with her fork to the plate of spaghetti in front of her.

Harry blushed to have been caught daydreaming. Looking down at his plate, swirled the pasta on his fork, then took a big bite. He nodded decisively, as if making a wordless comment on the good quality of the food. Ruth began eating also, being careful not to drip sauce on her blouse or skirt.

"Mmmm, this is good," Ruth commented after a few bites.

"It is," Harry agreed.

Ruth sipped the wine and felt the cool, dark liquid as it slid down her throat. The flavour of the wine was dark and dry; a complement to the spicy panache that was the spaghetti sauce. The mingling tastes and combinations were almost a surprise in what was such a soft and dimmed atmosphere Harry's office. The food brought a splash of vibrancy to overall calm that the room was not usually enveloped in.

Ruth looked at Harry sitting across from her, eating the spaghetti. He seemed different; more...content than his usual office self.

Harry glanced up and caught Ruth's eye. "What?" he asked with a laugh in his voice.

"Oh... nothing," Ruth responded, looking a bit startled. "It's just that you have a little, um," she sipped the wine before continuing, "on your chin," Ruth gestured to her chin, thinking Harry would understand what she meant.

"What?" he asked again, a bemused look crossing his face.

"Sauce," Ruth said with a small smile. "On your chin. You have sauce on your chin!" she laughed whilst Harry wiped the sauce away with his napkin.

"Gone?" He asked, setting set down the napkin.

Ruth nodded, still chuckling, "Yes. All gone."

Harry admired her. He'd never seen her as relaxed as this; she was usually quite reserved. It was good to hear her laugh. To him, Ruth's laugh was a free and liberating sound. A sound he did not often hear, but yet there was a great familiarity to it. When she laughed, it was as though he was seeing the woman inside. The real woman, not just the analyst with whom he shared an office and files.

"You're beautiful when you laugh," Harry whispered.

"Harry…" Ruth replied hesitantly but all her worries ebbed away when saw the love and need in her eyes. Harry reached out and gently caressed her cheek, his thumb rubbing small circles and his fingers tracing her jawline. They never dropped eye contact, for their eyes spoke all the emotions words just couldn't say. It was all the words they needed.

Harry slowly leaned forward, his head tilted slightly, and their lips met in a sweet, gentle kiss.

When they pulled apart Harry was smiling down at her. "I've wanted to do that for a while."

"Me too," Ruth admitted, her cheeks reddening slightly. "But I didn't think you'd look at me twice." Harry's raised an eyebrow. "I've read your file, remember and I've met Juliet, your romantic history is littered with confident, glamorous, beautiful women. It's hardly me is it?"

"I happen to think you're extremely beautiful, and not only when you laugh. And your certainly not lacking in confidence; I think you've proved that on several occasions by challenging me, don't you."

"Perhaps. So, am I to take it that you were behind the rose this morning and then breakfast on my desk?"

"Guilty as charged," Harry replied with a grin. "Did you suspect… before all this I mean?"

"I knew it had to be someone from here; the sonnet was a bit of a giveaway. I didn't dare hope it would have come from you. I thought it was probably Zaf."

Harry's eyebrows shot up. "Zaf? Is this something I need to worry about?"

Ruth smiled. "No. You know how cheeky he is. He's been teasing me all week; saying that he was sure the postman would break his back carrying all the Valentine's cards I was sure to receive."

"Did you get one from anyone else?" Harry asked, not sure if he wanted to know the answer.

"No. Just yours. But that was the only one I wanted."


	6. Fight Me

**Fight Me: **A fic about two characters fighting (against each other or side-by-side)

**A/N**: Not so much a fight as a battle of wills, inspired by a conversation with Nicola Walker back in April about the beard Peter was sporting for his drama 'Undeniable'. Also, someone in the 3W8L facebook group wondered if F would be for 'Fuck Me', which inspired the M-ratedness of this piece.

* * *

Ruth pulled away from Harry's kiss and sat back on the sofa. "I'm sorry Harry but the beard has to go!"

He'd grown it for an undercover operation which had ended two weeks ago and he hadn't shown any desire to get rid of it. Ruth had been happy to indulge him at first, but was now getting tired of the constant scratchiness and 'beard burn' on her face and in other, more intimate places.

"I thought you said you liked it?" Harry pouted.

"I did but…"

"You said it made me look younger and ruggedly handsome."

Ruth wracked her brain; did she say that? Oh yes, before the operation, when he was unsure about it and she was trying to buck him up. "Well yes, but I only said that to…

"You even said it made my lips much more kissable," he smirked, eyes sparkling. He was challenging her now; this was a game to him. Well if that was the way he wanted to play it. It was now Ruth vs the beard. Winner takes all.

"I suppose it frames them nicely, but they hide your pout."

"I do no pout."

"You do. But most of all, it's impractical. It's…. it's scratchy!"

"Scratchy?"

"Yes, against my skin when you kiss me and... y'know…" Harry raised his eyebrow "…other things," blushed Ruth.

"After the things we've done, how you can be embarrassed to talk about it is beyond me," quipped Harry.

"You're getting off the point. The beard has to go."

"And if I decide to keep it?"

Ruth played what she viewed as her trump card. "Then there will be no sex until you shave it off."

"You're not serious?"

Ruth crossed her arms over her chest. "Oh I'm serious Harry. Until the beard goes, there will be no more sex."

Harry's face hardened slightly. "Fine. Let's do this. But you should know," he whispered, leaning in close, "I fully intend to win. I _will _break you Ruth and the beard _will_ stay."

Ruth grinned. He was so sure of himself… bordering on cocky. "You really think you're that irresistible?"

"I know I am," he replied, holding out his hand for Ruth shake to confirm their deal. She took it and they shook firmly, before Harry pulled her towards him and pressed his lips over hers. It was wonderful; kissing Harry always was, and Ruth began to relax into his embrace. For a fleeting moment she considered throwing in the towel; he was irresistible. But then she felt the scratching of his beard and her resolve hardened. There was no way she was losing to a beard.

* * *

The next few days were torture for both of them. Harry had tried on numerous occasions to seduce Ruth, at one point even sauntering out of their en-suite completely naked and hard for her; a sight that Ruth had found extremely hard to resist.

She hadn't been innocent either; she had worn shorter skirts and tighter tops to work… not short or tight enough to draw attention from the rest of the team, but enough to drive Harry crazy. She also snuggled up to him a lot more when they were alone at home, her hand rubbing teasing circles on his thigh.

"God Ruth, I want you," he'd growled on Wednesday evening, after pulling back from a particularly heavy snogging session on the sofa. "I don't know how much longer I can take this."

"Well you know what you have to do," Ruth had replied, her voice cool and steady, the complete antithesis of how she'd felt inside. With that, she'd stood and gathered up their dinner plates that had been left on the coffee table, before walking out of the room, leaving Harry to groan in frustration .

Ruth smiled in satisfaction at the sound. A few more days and he'd break; she was sure of it.

* * *

But he didn't and by Friday both she and Harry were so sexually frustrated that they were each ready to capitulate to the other; although neither were keen to be the first to back down.

But Ruth eventually decided she couldn't take it anymore. She arrived home before Harry that night; he had been summoned to Whitehall by the Home Secretary, and set her plan into action. She quickly showered and styled her hair, before dressing in her sexiest nightwear; a black negligée and getting into bed to wait for him. She would have him tonight, even if it meant losing the bet.

She hadn't planned on him being so late though and before long, the tiring week, both at work and at home, got the better of her and she dozed off.

She awoke sometime later to the sound of running water in the en suite. Harry was home. She rose from bed and, shrugging on her satin robe, entered the bathroom. She found Harry standing in front of the sink, wearing only a towel and a face full of shaving foam.

"Admitting defeat?" she asked with a raise of her eyebrow.

Harry held up the razor. "Merely for the good of the country. It's not good to have the head of counter-terrorism in a state of nervous exhaustion because he isn't getting any sex." He took in her attire; paying particular interest to where her robe was falling off her shoulder, revealing the negligee underneath. "Although it seems I may not need to now."

Ruth smirked and snatched the razor from him. She was not giving up when she was so close to victory. She lifted it slowly to his face and, with a reluctant nod of agreement from Harry, she began to shave him. Slowly, her Harry was revealed once more to her as the beard disappeared. She turned a little to wash the razor before going back into shaving him.

He noticed her robe slipping as she continued her deft movements and he couldn't take his eyes off her. "Stop squirming," she ordered. Harry shrugged and let her continue. She was almost done when he could take it no more. He leaned in and kissed her passionately. She returned his kiss eagerly, her tongue finding comfort in the depths of his mouth.

Without breaking the kiss, Harry took away the razor and backed her up against the nearest wall; their kiss intensifying in the process. He yanked open her robe and dipped his head to her chest, kissing the mounds of her breasts. He pulled the neckline down to expose her nipples and began sucking and licking.

Ruth, breathing heavily from Harry's ministrations, reached down for the towel wrapped around his waist, revealing his impressive erection. "Oh God, Harry; I need you!" she panted as she stroked him gently.

Harry pulled her knickers to the side, intending to prepare her for his entry, but he found she was already wet for him. He lifted her, his hands on her bum and she in turn wrapped her legs around him for support. Pinning her arms against the wall above her head, he slid slowly inside her, feeling the warmth of her body as she gladly accepted him. Her eyes slipped closed and she bit her lip as pleasure overtook her.

"Oh god, Harry!" she uttered.

Harry began thrusting and soon they were both covered in a light sheen of sweat; their moans filling the small room. It wasn't long before they before they were both approaching completion. Ruth urged Harry to move faster and he happily complied. Ruth moaned as she tumbled over the edge. Harry gave several quick, deep thrusts and, moments later, reached his own end.

Harry released Ruth's arms and she draped them round his neck and rested her head against his as their breathing slowed.

"Enjoy that?" Harry asked, a slight smirk on his face.

"Mmm-hmm. And so much better without the beard," she replied, cheekily as Harry lowered her gently to the floor.

"Not that it's all gone yet; you missed a spot," Harry accused, rubbing the small patch of hair on his left jaw bone.

"And who's fault was that," she countered.

"Hmm," huffed Harry. "I could blame that on you too; withholding sex was a cruel tactic."

"Worked though didn't it? I won. And if you never know, if you finish the job, there might be another reward for you," she whispered seductively as she sashayed into bedroom, her hips swaying suggestively.


	7. Get Me

**Get Me: **A fic about one character saving another

**A/N:** Inspired by an episode of Castle!

* * *

Harry was sat in the kitchen reading the newspaper when Ruth appeared in his kitchen fresh from her shower and ready to face the day.

"Good morning," she greeted, approaching his chair and leaning down to kiss him.

"Mmm. Good morning." Harry gestured to the newspaper. "There's a performance of Mozart's Fifth at St Martin in the Fields tonight if you fancy it?"

"I would love to but I can't. I'm going out for dinner with an old friend from school, remember?" Ruth replied.

"You don't sound too thrilled about it."

"Well, Sarah is lovely, but she's always been really competitive; talking about her fabulous, exciting life, non-stop."

"You're a spy Ruth, what's more exciting than that?"

"Yes, but she thinks I push paper at the Department of the Environment, Food and Rural Affairs. Anyway, the last time I talked to her she'd just come back from the French Riviera with a millionaire she met in Monaco!"

"Do you want me to come? I could regale her with thrilling tales from the Department of Work and Pensions," Harry quipped.

"Definitely not. You are exactly her type, Harry; slightly older, suave, sophisticated. The last thing I need is to watch her trying it on with you." She paused for a moment before continuing. "You could do something for me though."

"Yeah?"

"You could ring me about 9ish and provide me with a reason to leave."

"What, an emergency at work?" he replied raising an eyebrow. "Perhaps a herd of cows on the rampage?"

Ruth slapped him lightly on the chest. "I'm serious. If you don't hear from me by 9 o'clock, you've got to ring me and get me out of there. Please?"

Harry relented, picking up his phone. "Okay."

"You won't forget?"

"I am setting a reminder as we speak," he replied, typing it into his calendar. Once he'd finished he held it up to show her. "See?"

Ruth read the display. 21:00 CALL RUTH TO RESCUE HER.

"Thanks Harry," she said, pecking him on the cheek. "Of course this is all dependent on us getting through the day without a national emergency? Is it wrong that part of me wants the day to blow up in my face?"

* * *

Much to Ruth's annoyance, the day went as smoothly as possible, so there was no legitimate excuse for her to cancel her plans. Jo asked her why she didn't just lie and say she was too busy, but Ruth didn't feel comfortable with that… Sarah was her friend and, though she might be slightly annoying, she didn't deserve to be lied to.

So, like the good friend that she was, Ruth left work at six to go home and change before meeting her at Princi's, an Italian restaurant in Soho. The evening was even worse than Ruth had imagined it would be and she had never been so grateful for a phone call in her life, and they hadn't even been served the main course.

"Excuse me," she said to Sarah as she fished her phone out of her bag and stepped away from the table, out of Sarah's earshot. "Hello?"

"Hi, it's me, your friendly neighbourhood rescuer." Harry's smooth voice came over the line.

"Oh thank God," Ruth replied, relieved.

"I take it you want to get out of there?"

"Yes! Most definitely. This is hell!"

"Well, why don't you come round and you can tell me about it."

"On one condition," she stipulated.

"What's that?"

"You have a large glass of wine and a Chinese waiting for me."

* * *

Harry poured Ruth a large glass of wine, as they sat at the table with their meal. She took it from him and gulped half of it down before he'd even finished filling his own glass.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Was it that bad? Did she go on about luxury yachts and holidays in the Seychelles?"

Ruth shook her head. "No. Worse. She was boring."

"Boring?"

"Yeah. All she did was complain about her husband saying now that she's married there's no romance in her life; it's just an endless routine of sameness."

"So your fabulous friend…"

"Is not so fabulous anymore." They ate in silence for a few moments before Ruth spoke up again. "That's not going to happen to us is it?" she asked nervously. "Marriage isn't going to change us is it? We're not going become one of those couples who go to the same two restaurants and only have sex on public holidays?

"I think we're pretty safe on that score," Harry assured her, with a slight smirk. "I mean, we both know how irresistible you find me."

"I'm being serious. You've said yourself you were bored with Jane… that's one of the reason you had affairs. And I don't want that to happen to us. I don't want you to become bored with me, and I certainly don't want to become bored with you."

Harry put down his fork. "Boredom was only one of the reasons for my marriage breaking down and by no means the main one. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I wouldn't have proposed to you if I didn't. I love you." Ruth smiled, but Harry could see it didn't quite reach her eyes. He took her hand across the table. "Ruth, I can't see the future; I'm not Mystic Meg, and I can't promise that there won't be times when we get fed-up or bored or annoyed with each other but that's part and parcel of all relationships; married or not. It's how we deal with it that matters. We could see if we could get it added into the wedding vows if you want... 'for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, in excitement and boredom, when having copious amounts of sex and when not'."

Ruth laughed lightly. "I'm not sure the vicar would approve that!"

"You're probably right. But I promise you, here and now, that I will endeavour not to become a bore and keep romancing you and making love to you until I die."

"And I promise not become a bore either or a nagging wife. And to constantly surprise you."

"That sounds… dangerous." mused Harry as they both went back to eating their meals.

"Oh I don't know," Ruth replied with a raised eyebrow as her foot found its way into his lap and began rubbing him through his jeans. "I think it sounds rather exciting,"

Harry decided he most definitely agreed.


End file.
